There was a time when luggage was made in the United States. In fact, the last of the great luggage manufacturers was right here in Seattle, turning out luggage for more than a century.
If you’ve ever had a piece of Skyway Luggage then you know of this legendary company. They were quite the innovators in the world of suitcases, being the first to add such premium features as chromed hardware, vinyl coverings and yes, wheels.
My own connection to Skyway occurred in August 1981. The company was still in its heyday and all their products were made on Western Avenue at the factory that bore its name. It was quite the operation as you can imagine.
Fresh from college, I was in need of a job. I had mistakenly believed that the world would beat a path to my door once I graduated with my B.A. in Journalism. It didn’t, of course. My stack of rejection letters was proof of that.
It didn’t help that my daughter was on the way that summer. I needed a job, any job, which sent me on a journey that still leaves me laughing to this day.
I made many stops that summer, applying for jobs I wasn’t even vaguely qualified for. The Employment Security Department counselor had already branded my job prospects as a public relations professional “Poor” on a form I still have, if only to keep me humble.
She certainly seemed to be right that summer, as no one wanted me, including the quick succession of “what were you thinking” job applications I submitted.
This was well before the Internet. You had to show up to an employer and fill out an application in person, at least for the menial jobs I was reduced to considering with a baby on the way.
A couple of days ago I recalled the time I applied to Pay ‘n’ Save. Remember Pay ‘n’ Save and Ernst? I applied to be a clerk there. They not only had me fill out an application, but also take a personality test.
I flunked in personality, largely because I checked one question “yes” in an effort to be forthright and honest. The question: “Have you ever stolen anything?” I answered “yes” as I had undoubtedly purloined at least a pen during my travels through the educational and employment realm.
Obviously, they didn’t appreciate my honesty. Or perhaps, my lack of skill. I never got an interview with Pay ‘n’ Save, or even Ernst.
I also applied to K-Mart to be a camera salesperson. I knew photography pretty well and loved cameras and all the accessories. It was a thing of mine back in the day. I waited days for K-Mart to call, but no call came.
I finally ended up at Skyway Luggage. They needed assemblers. I thought to myself, “Hey, I can assemble stuff, I make really intricate models. How hard can luggage be?”
I arrived at company headquarters and filled out their application, just as I had filled out dozens of applications elsewhere over the ensuing months since my graduation.
This time, there was no personality test. Judging by the demeanor of the woman manning the Personnel counter, they didn’t seem to care much if you had a personality or not.
That’s not to say that Skyway didn’t have a testing process. They did. I guess making luggage is a pretty exacting business and not just anyone can be a luggage maker.
After filling out the application, I was asked to wait. A good sign, I thought. I may have a chance at getting a job here. It looked like it was down to me and two other applicants who sat across from me.
Finally, my name was called. The receptionist pointed to a room and asked me to go through the door. It was there I would receive further instructions. I made myself comfortable. Eventually “miss personality” walked in. In her one hand was a board with a bunch of holes in it. In her other hand, a bag of finishing nails.
She explained the task. In a timed exercise I was to put as many nails into the holes on the board as humanly possible. Time counted, as did accuracy.
“Begin!” she exclaimed as she pressed the button on her stopwatch.
I rose to the task. Well, I tried to rise to the task. After the first couple nails found a corresponding hole I started to get nervous. My hands started to shake and nails started to go everywhere except into the little holes on the board. Nails were falling to the floor, onto the table, into the space between my socks and my sneakers. As I said, everywhere.
I started to giggle a bit, then broke out into laughter. Tears were streaming down my eyes by the time the she finally let me out of my misery and said “Stop!”
I had failed miserably. I obviously wasn’t meant to assemble luggage, which turned out to be a good thing, because eventually Skyway outsourced all production to China, which has far more skilled workers who take their nail-in-the-board tests seriously, at least far more seriously than I did.
Eventually, Associated Grocers came to the rescue. They offered me my mailroom driver job at $5 an hour. As often happens, the phone rang quite regularly after I took this job. Even K-Mart called, asking me if I still wanted to sell cameras.
But the fates had intervened. I was now one of “The Food People,” as AG employees were known. And my career path was set.
Years later I owned some Skyway Luggage. These suitcases were crap, one of the wheels coming off on my first trip with it.
They say everyone has a twin. I can only assume that mine is Chinese, slaving away in some luggage factory in the Jiangsu Province. And to think, they could have kept production right here in the good old USA and let me put faulty wheels on pieces of luggage instead.
In the Emerald City, with lots of baggage,
– Robb